Hubris.co.nz

Right now I kinda wanna tweet “Hey weirdo, my window is open again. At least if you rape me while I’m sleeping I’ll get a proper hard good dicking & stop being a lesbian…” But I can’t. Because that’s 141 characters. And also that wouldn’t fit in a “oh wait, too soon?” or a #iamdeconstructingyearsoffeministtheoryandalsobadpeoplejudgementandtakingthepissbecausethisissuchawrongopiniontohave,andalsoitkindafreakedmeoutsoofcourseiammakingjokesaboutit hashtag.

And in things that would only make sense if you’ve figured out the secret code of this site as opposed to the old one (it is no longer the source code and as another hint it rhymes with what Glen and Rebecca and Amy are) I had a wall-touching moment just before when I was peeing just now. It was kind of amusing. But let’s backtrack back up to this morning, when I discovered that although webstock satchels are awesomely strong and enabled me to carry two bottles of wine to dinner at Emma and Simon’s last night, but apparently they did enable those two bottles to crush the leg off my new sunglasses. And you know how fucking difficult it was to find those glasses!

But oh yes, in further backtracking, dinner was a magnificant thing. I ate amazing mushroom bourgouin, and delicious bread, and average green beans (I don’t want all the praise to go to Emma’s head TOO much) while I heard the most adorable D&D related story that I’ve ever heard. And then there were cats on my lap, and faces in Emma’s pudding, and Simon did his sexy dance for me, which LITERALLY (my loud English neighbour says “literally” a LOT when she’s not necessarily meaning figuratively, but the literally is sort of superfluous. But in this case, I know I say I do things a lot, like omg I totally died,  but I didn’t actually die etc) made me go “tehehe!” and almost blush but not quite. There were a lot of eyebrows.

And now we come to the total and utter degregation and humiliation of a WINZ seminar. I was in a group with two people who maybe aspired to work for a supermarket, maybe. This should not have been a group discussion, no way, no how. It wasn’t fun for me and I’m sure it wasn’t fun for them either. Hey, did you know that jobs are advertised in the newspaper? And also online? And sometimes places aren’t hiring? I wrote UGH in my notebook in a very steady stream.

After that I felt disgusting and gross and violated and so fucking dirty and disheartened and untalented and every other bad adjective in the world, but luckily, it was time for me to text Megan and go and meet her for lunch. Because the day was so gorgeous, we went to Beach Babylon on Oriental Parade. We basked in the sun, and the food was tasty, but the service was pretty terrible. I’d almost call it appalling except that I know they were dealing with a broken till at the time. Megan is one of my current favourite people right now because I get to gossip with her about other people and she knows almost all of my secrets but not quite all. I still haven’t told her that I’m actually Batman, for example.

Tonight was Karen’s dinner at Miyabi and it turns out that their chicken teriyaki is battered and deep-fried beforehand. Excellent. Then there were drinks at Watusi and I got to see Jane from Green Land who I miss insane amounts and is  one of my main motivating factors for kind of wanting to work in Molesworth Quarter again, even if it means work drinks at the Back Bencher, but if it means Green Land coffee and Green land scones, and love from Paul and Jane then maybe it’s worthwhile? I mean, apart from the actual job of course, which would be great. Speaking of jobhunting in a not related to WINZ way, I got a call from someone I’d interviewed with a couple of weeks ago, inviting me to go to WOW, so that was nice. I like people who like me.

Drinks at Karen’s with Brad and Shirley, and then we’re off to Atomic at Indigo via the 90s party at Blink’s but when we got there it was all about the sign on the door saying it was canceled, so we stopped to hide booze by the Bakehouse. Brad apparently went back to get another beer later, all class. Once the band had finished (Electrocrack is the new Emperor’s New Clothes), the music was great.

If New Zealand had Craigslist I would post something saying “Dear girl with the NIN tattoos and the dice necklace – you grabbed my pearls and told me you loved them and then when I suggested you punch your friend you told me you loved me and then when it seemed like you almost took my hand in the bathroom, and then did take it later but only to ask for cigarettes, well, I don’t know if you’re that way inclined, or if you are if you’d be that way inclined towards me or not, but I’d just really like to hold hands and kiss you”. Girlcrushes are confusing. Girlie-Giggling Crushes, on the other hand, are fun, even if your friends do tell you to stop giggling just cos you’ve seen the boy you have a crush on, and yell at you to talk to him even though you know he’s not interested, but hey, a hug’s good enough. And then when Heather calls you at 11am, you’re like “arrgh, I love you Heather but I’ve got to go back to sleep to dream about the boy and skipping through fields of daisies”.

Which is actually a lie, because while we’re jumbling this narrative around, I actually dreamt about Kristen, who was working behind the bar and who was (fair enoughly too) very tired. I dreamt I got up at school and yelled at everyone that she was singlehandedly the best person at the school and reeled off a list of her achievements and then cried. Much more wholesome than the other day when I dreamt I decided out of the blue to hire a male prostitute, who was gay but was doing straight for the money. I don’t know why I bothered though, because he blamed me for his inability to stick it in (probably not helped by the fact that I was inexplicitly still wearing my panties – hehe I said panties) but eventually he came across my face and mouth and left. And I paid $130 for that? Wow, even in my dreams I get ripped off.

And on that note before I return to my night story, I might throw down my New Year’s Resolutions: